


Goddess of Wind, Thunder, and Fodlan

by ReynaAtTheEnd



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Canon-Typical Violence, Claude von Riegan is a good friend, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Depression, F/M, Gen, I haven't decided which yet, Ishtar has a lot of issues, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Seteth (Fire Emblem), Psychological Trauma, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, eventually, protective byleth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23166541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReynaAtTheEnd/pseuds/ReynaAtTheEnd
Summary: Ishtar would need a miracle to be freed from Julius's side. Tine needs a one-in-a-million chance to escape her tormentors. A mysterious spell that yanks both into the strange and unfamiliar world of Fodlan puts that chance into their hands. Will they be able to grasp it? How will the machinations of many be changed by the children of the Crusaders?
Relationships: Ishtar & Claude von Riegan, Ishtar & Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Ishtar & My Unit | Byleth, Ishtar & Teeny | Tine, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, Tine & Claude von Riegan, Tine & My Unit | Byleth, mentioned Ishtar/Yurius | Julius, other ships to be decided
Comments: 57
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So! This plot bunny kept dogging me again and again until I finally caved in and started writing this concurrently with my other project. Ever since I read that Three Houses was heavily inspired by Genealogy I had ideas like this knocking around, and while I had a couple of ideas of what to do - including sending the entire Golden Deer/Blue Lions right into the middle of Gen 2 - this is ultimately what caught my imagination. I hope you guys also find it interesting!
> 
> Oh! It's also worth mentioning a fantastic Fates/Sacred Stones crossover called Portal that I read a while back that I also think is amazing and gave me food for thought. 
> 
> I'm currently a bit up in the air about who I might ship Ishtar and Tine with, but I'm leaning towards crossover pairings because those are always fun (as much as I love Seliph/Tine) Anyway, on with the prologue!

Once you lived in Belhalla long enough, you became numb to the screaming.

Ishtar von Freege was distantly aware of this as she watched a too-young boy with a ill-fitted sword hack away at his opponent – no skill, no grace, just pure anguished desperation – while the dying man feebly tried to push him away. This nevertheless being something of a fact of life for her, she chose to focus on clutching Tine's hand and shifting her posture so her cousin had the option of occasionally burying her face in her shoulder; to hide away from the gruesome scene. Fortunately Julius had insisted on giving the three of them a place at his side as the Guests of Honor, and he was happily absorbed in the scene before him; it gave her more opportunities than usual to do so.

More didn't mean that many, though. Ishtar could hear Tine choking down on hysterical sobs beneath the chanting of the bishops, the outraged and/or gleeful cheers of the crowd, and the tortured cries of the gladiators. It was another skill she'd quickly learned to pick up.

 _I shouldn't have brought her here,_ she thought with a long-familiar mix of frustration and resignation. _I knew that Julius would have something planned for my birthday._

 _You would have left her behind with Mother?_ A sarcastic voice interjected. It sounded like Aunt Tailtiu...or rather, Aunt Tailtiu in the first few weeks after she'd been brought back to the household.

Ishtar didn't have an answer to that. She rarely did, when she imagined what her rebel aunt would think or say to her ( _about her_ ) these days.

She rubbed her thumb along the side of Tine's wrist three times. In their carefully hidden sign language, the gesture said _it's almost over_ without the risk of being heard whispering it. Her cousin let go of her hand and grabbed her arm near the elbow, signaling that she understood...the tightness of her grip and the involuntary flinch caused by Archbishop Manfroy announcing the final round of the tournament.

“What do you think, Ishtar?” Julius flopped back down in the red velvet chair that had once been the sole property of the king and the bloodline of Heim. His father was nowhere to be seen, the Emperor having begged off with an illness. ( _At least, that's what Julius told her. She wondered if something else had happened, but only briefly. Wondering was useless._ ) “I was _so sure_ he was going to die in the second round, yet here he is! Do you think someone is cheating? Helping him on the side in between bouts?”

“I don't imagine so, my lord,” Ishtar responded, peering down at the field where the boy was limping toward the healers. ( _she almost couldn't bear to look at him when he was in this sort of mood._ ) “The bishops have been carefully monitoring the arena for you, after all.”

Julius clapped his hands together. “That's right. I didn't want the slightest thing to wrong on your special day, so there have been extra precaution enacted.” That could mean anything between arresting the usual black-market fixers and nobles with an eye for social climbing – the only ones still desperate or stupid enough to interfere with Empire business – or rounding up anyone who seemed vaguely suspicious and putting their heads on pikes all around the coliseum as a warning. Ishtar didn't know – she hadn't _seen_ any pikes coming in, but Julius might have steered her away from them – and she didn't have the desire ( _the_ _strength_ ) to ask. “Hm, I wonder if he was a hunter before he was Hunted.” Her prince chuckled a bit at his unintentional rhyme; Ishtar forced herself to do the same.

She felt Tine cringe and squeezed her wrist apologetically. “I'd say so. He has a working grasp on how to approach a kill,” She offered. “I think he'll fit into the army just fine.”

“Perhaps you're right,” Julius said thoughtfully. He sat still for a moment, then abruptly leaned over and pinned Tine with a curious look. “What do _you_ think, Tine?” Ishtar _felt_ the physical jolt of terror rush through her cousin. “Do you think he'll make it past the final around?”

“...I-I...” Tine stammered, staring back at him with wide eyes. Her was pale and her eyes were tellingly red-rimmed. Julius frowned at the sight, waiting impatiently.

“She's speechless, Lord Julius,” Ishtar intervened, giving her prince her warmest smile when he sat back and looked curiously at her. “She thought he was going to die in round two, just you did. I told her that he would make it, but she was convinced he would simply die later on. To see someone continue to win in spite of everything...” she shrugged delicately. “There's something magical to that, isn't there?”

As quickly as he'd become annoyed, Julius's body language softened. He reached over and ruffled Tine's hair. ( _He'd always done that when he first met her, bothered by how sad and scared she seemed. That had always annoyed Julia, so he did it to make Tine get up and chase him, to do something other than cower and look so upset. But now-_ ) “Well, of course! You're always right, Ishtar.” He leaned over and smiled at Tine again. “Remember that when Hilda finds a lord for you to marry, okay Tine? You are a beautiful lady and you are always right.”

“O-of course!” Tine bobbled her head vigorously. “I-I'll remember that, Julius.”

Satisfied, Julius went back to lounging in his throne, though not before waving a hand to summon one of the servers. Ishtar smiled wanly at the trembling woman who stumbled forward, shaking all over except for her hands – which were rock steady on the tray. _Smart, very smart._ She accepted the wine glass offered and took a sip from it, shifting a bit so Julius could sling an arm around her shoulder and hold her close.

That left Tine to cling instead to the armrests of her chair – a warm, cushioned seat that had been hastily brought in to accommodate for her – as the boy and his opponent squared off against each other, and the bell rang for the final fight.

 _I wish I didn't have to bring her to this place,_ Ishtar thought, taking another sip. There had been a time when she couldn't keep anything down while watching these spectacles. Now she just felt numb, aside from the desire to take something to settle her stomach after all the vomiting she'd done in the morning.

She still felt sparks. Maybe it was because she'd inherited from Thrud, but there were little moments when an inkling of the righteous girl who had wanted to be a perfect, just queen would roar back into the forefront of her mind. It was how she could discreetly let children escape the claws of the cult, it was how she could still try and stand up to Archbishop Manfroy, it was how she could go into a town her mother planned to 'visit' and deliberately linger until something else demanded the attention of the ruling lady.

But sparks burned out. Ishtar was not a fool like her father, deluding herself into believing that they were building a righteous empire out of all these corpses, one purified of deceit and the machinations of the old court that had caused “Sigurd's War”. She knew exactly what had happened the day Sigurd died, Avris took the reigns and brought the Loptous Cult into the heart of Gravelle – it was the death of joy, and the death of hope.

There was no justice here. No honored dead were buried here. Hell was empty, and its gates were rattling in the wind. If the gods themselves were not dead, they had abandoned the people in disgust over what they had accepted as 'just' when they made Arvis their emperor. The only thing left was to try and mitigate the horrors that now had an unstoppable stranglehold on the lives of every person in Jugdral.

The crowd's enthusiastic roar pierced through the haze over Ishtar's mind. She glanced to her right and saw that Tine was now sitting at the edge of her seat, her hands over her mouth. Looking down at the arena below, she saw the boy tank a spear hit to his shoulder in order to get close enough to ram his blade through the heart of his opponent, killing him. Tine slumped with relief, while Ishtar quickly stood up and started clapping in approval; to do what was expected of her...and perhaps to let the boy imagine, just for a moment, that someone was on his side. Julius shot of his seat to join her, and the boy was carried off the floor to the healers.

To join the Cult of Loptous.

 _Don't forget to smile,_ Aunt Tailtiu's voice warned her.

That had been the last thing she'd said to her daughter and her niece before she was murdered. Ishtar, who just barely remembered how cheerful and happy she'd used to be, was no longer certain what she'd meant by saying those words that night.

Ishtar manufactured a smile when the crowd's attention was turned to her by the announcer's voice. It brought a familiar dull pain to her cheeks.

* * *

_You're almost through the day,_ Ishtar tried to communicate to Tine by clasping her hand as Julius grandly lead them towards the dining hall. _It's just one more meal. It will feel horribly long and tense but it will end and then we'll be able to retire. Hang in there, my cousin..._

She half-wished Ishtore was here, though an equally large part of her was grateful that he was in Melgen and about as far away from this madness as he could get without being assigned to Issach. She tugged slightly at her ponytail, making sure it hadn't slipped, and cast a quick glance at Tine. Her cousin was properly dolled up for the occasion, dressed in a splendid silver gown with emerald jewelry to proclaim her minor Forseti blood; her expression, however, had settled into a familiar look of serene resignation. ( _She wore that expression every time she had to eat dinner with Mother and Father._ ) Ishtar wanted to give her an encouraging smile, but she couldn't quite seem to form the expression.

Tine squeezed her hand anyway. She always seemed to know when Ishtar was 'disappearing inside herself', as she called it. Then she raised her head, jutting her chin out a bit. That did made Ishtar smile just a bit. _Maybe we can make it through this unscathed._

“I warned father and Archbishop Manfroy not to discuss any droll politics and the like for tonight,” Julius promised, grabbing the door handles and pulling the white wood open. “There will be fruit and cake among other good things as well. I told the kitchen I expected nothing but the best for you, my dear princess.”

“You're too kind, my love,” Ishtar whispered, seizing on the familiar warmth of his hand when he grasped her fingers.

This is Julius, her warm, loving Julius, who'd been her best friend ever since the day she met him. ( _her Julius was disappearing beneath the shadow of something she couldn't name and greatly feared_ ) Whatever else would come to be, he would protect her. ( _as long as he continued to exist_ ) He would protect Tine, too, because she loved Tine and he cared about her being happy. ( _he'd proved that in the most terrifying ways possible before_ ) He had been friends with her too, not as close, but Julius had loved easily back then, back before his mother had been brutally murdered and Julia had vanished into the night. ( _back before the Book before he changed before everything went so so wrong-_ ) She was safe with him. She would be happy when they were finally married.

There were a couple of nobles already sitting along the massive long table, all of whom stood up when Julius entered the room. Ishtar recognized a few of them from her father's court, and that of Dozel (whom she often saw when she was in Belhalla), and a few who were new ( _and by new, that meant that they were child hunt survivors._ ) Some of the food was already laid out, and everything looked and smelled spectacular. It was almost enough to settle Ishtar's stomach, which was trying to stage a revolt – the most recent of _many_ she'd been having over the past month. She heard Tine's breath hitch a bit behind her and hoped the girl's poker face hadn't broken.

“Where are the rest of the guests?” Julius asked, annoyed.

One of the servants swallowed and hesitantly said, “T-There was a disturbance at the gate that t-they left to tend to, y-your highness. T-they instructed me to t-tell you that they would return here shortly.”

Julius let out a snort of annoyance, but thankfully made no other movements. “What a nuisance.” He pulled out his chair and sat down nonetheless, grabbing his cup and swirling it lightly.

Ishtar took a step forward, then another one before taking her place at Julius's right. Unfortunately, she quickly realized with a sinking heart that the lords weren't looking at her in spite of the occasion. They were all staring at Tine. She wished that she hadn't let Julius talk her into those emeralds, that she'd been able to convince her cousin to go without her beloved red ribbons and to wear the 'mourning veil' to hide her face. Even though no one here would know what King Lewyn looked like, everyone knew he had a daughter who had been 'rescued' by Freege mages and brought into the household.

“Why is the traitor's daughter here?” One of the Freege nobles growled when Tine nervously sat down at the place of honor by Ishtar's right.

“My cousin is my guest,” Ishtar responded as firmly as she could manage while Tine flinched and pressed her back against the chair, trying to make herself seem smaller. “I would have you address her as lady Freege.”

“She is the symbol of your family's shame! She should not be allowed within the sacred halls of the family her kin so defied.”

Ishtar didn't get more than a second to marvel at the man's stupidity before Julius snapped his fingers.

Hel was a spell that hit fast and hard, but burned itself into the retina of anyone who witnessed it be cast. Ishtar saw it in her sleep. In an instant, an array of blood red spikes burst out of the floor and rammed straight through the insolent lord with a sickening crackle and _squelch_. He didn't even get to scream...not that he could have, seeing as his lungs would have been thoroughly punctured by the impalement. Blood sprayed everywhere, on the floor, on the white pillars, on the back of the chair he'd been standing in front of.

Julius glared at the place where the man had been standing without saying a word, then slowly looked around the room, daring anyone else to address her that way or object to Tine's presence. No one did; the men all flinched or cowered when his eyes passed over them.

Ishtar might have laughed at the complete nonchalance at of the servants who had come in with the food; they glanced at the moaning, dying man, then at each other. Then they placed the food on the table, put gloves on, and carried the body away for disposal without needing to be instructed to. But she was not a fool, and even the bleak hilarity of moments like this had long since lost what little charm they had.

She glanced at Tine. Her cousin was very green in the face, but she didn't vomit, didn't start crying, didn't even make a sound. She very studiously kept her eyes on her plate as the other guests started to file in.

 _Just another hour,_ Ishtar thought, gripping her fork and knife. _Just one more hour. Don't forget to smile._

* * *

Smiling when Julius gently lead her to bed wasn't hard.

These moments he seemed completely like himself, as if nothing had ever happened to him. She could lie in his arms and loose herself, drown in the image of a world where love conquered all, where Arvis had never uplifted the cult, a world where her prince's smile had never been tainted. When she fell asleep, her dreams were peaceful.

But...it didn't last. She woke in the dead of night and the first thing she saw when she turned her head on Julius's chest was the sickly purple glow of that Book.

Ishtar stared at it for the longest time, before carefully sitting up, moving Julius's arm from her shoulder. ( _She'd tried to destroy it a few times, after the first few manic episodes really sank in. But it wouldn't tear, wouldn't burn, and the ink didn't run when she threw it in a boiling pot. After a while, Julius always kept it close, confirming that it was the reason he changed. Was changing._ )

She sat quite still, listening for the sound of footsteps in the hallway ( _you could never be too careful when there were cultists in the house_ ) while her stomach roiled and growled in discomfort. Her head ached, and her fingers were numb. Numb, numb, numb. When had she started becoming numb? When had this blanket of exhaustion that she wore like a favorite coat started to drown out everything, even her pain?

 _Will you listen to yourself, girl?,_ she could vividly her hear mother snap. _Archbishop Manfroy is an old bat, and when he kicks it, who will have sway over the prince if not you? Endure it until the snake is dead, then_ you _will be the one steering this kingdom as you see fit. What else could possibly matter more?_

Ishtar looked down at Julius. He seemed at peace in his sleep, lying still and relaxed, his red hair covering the silken pillows. _I can still save him,_ she thought once again. _He's weak, he's having more episodes, but he's not_ gone _, he's_ not gone _...not yet. I can still..._ Trembling, she reached down and gently stroked his face. He murmured her name in his sleep and leaned into her hand. _Julius..._

Soft footsteps outside their door dragged her from their thoughts. Someone was walking carefully, light on their feet, and paused just outside. Ishtar wondered if something had happened, if some poor servant had been sent in the archbishop's stead to ask something of Julius...but they never knocked. After a long minute of silence, the footsteps carried onward, careful and quick.

Tine often walked like that.

Ishtar inhaled a short, harsh breath, wondering in alarm what was keeping her cousin awake in the castle. ( _In this castle._ ) Had someone tried to accost her while she slept? She wouldn't put it past most of the inhabitants, that's why she had wanted her to have a room close to them...

She carefully got up off the bed, walking on tip toes to avoid making sounds as she grabbed a heavy dark cloak off of the hook, throwing it on over her nightgown. She opened the door slowly, wincing at the creaking sound it made and cast a quick glance over at Julius; thankfully, he was still asleep. Then she slipped out of the room and looked to the left just in time to see a flash of silver and red disappear around the corner.

Cursing, Ishtar hurried down the hall; she was about halfway across before it occurred to her that she had not picked up a tome, and would have to rely on innate magic if she came across someone accosting Tine. She shook it off, though – she was not the Thrud Major for nothing, and she would smite anyone who hurt Tine. ( _she was the only unambiguously good thing in her life, in Ishtore's life, pawns of the Empire that they were_ ) she turned the corner, reached the end of the hall and came skidding to a halt at the open doors to a balcony.

This balcony had been the place where Emperor Arvis had shown off his wife Deirdre to a cheering crowd, the place where newly crowned kings of Granvelle had greeted their subjects. Now, it was bare and lonely, cast in the moonlight with only one person standing within it, looking down at an empty, bloodstained courtyard.

Tine stood up on the handrail, her back to the hall. Aunt Tailtiu's ribbon was back in her hair, along with the emerald earrings Ishtore had bought her. ( _to remind her of her father, in defiance of Mother's anger when she saw them_ ). She wore a black coat and no shoes, and her arms hung limply at her side. She was staring at the sky, the wind whipping through her hair as if it was trying to speak to her. ( _or maybe Ishtar's sleep-deprived mind was seeking some kind of support, someone to help her find the words she would need_ ) Tine was standing straighter than she'd ever remembered seeing her.

“Tine,” Ishtar said. She'd meant to cry out, but her throat was raw and so tight she could barely breathe, so the name came out hardly more than a whisper.

“Ishtar...” Tine seemed to have heard her regardless. “...I'm sorry...”

“Don't be sorry,” Ishtar said, stepping out onto the balcony. Dull fear kept her from simply running and trying to grab her, said that if Tine heard she would fall before she had the chance to reach her. “Come down from there.”

“...Ishtar, I love you. I don't blame you for wanting to save Julius.” Tine still didn't turn around, but she rocked on her heels a bit. It was enough to freeze Ishtar in place for a moment. “But how long do you think we can live like this?”

“...I...” Ishtar fumbled, a violent bout of nausea rising up in her throat. What could she say to that?

“Do you remember what Ishtore said about those little rebellion groups that fell a while back? About killing people with hope?” Tine let out a little, hollow laugh. “How can hope kill people, when living without it is to be already dead? ...There's nothing to wish for. Nothing to to strive for. Nothing to wait for, no sign of even a dream of things getting better. ...There's nothing left for anyone here. Especially not for me.”

“I'm still here. Ishtore is still here.”

“You're dying too,” Tine said quietly, so quietly the wind almost took it away. “Do you think I can't see it? You die a little more every day, along with Julius. Because you're not like your mother, or Arvis, or Manfroy. You're good, and no one good can live in Hell.” She looked up at the sky again. “Mother...I wonder if mother had realized that right before she died? Her eyes were so sad...I always remember them being sad, now. Did she ever smile? Ever, even once, after being brought to this place?”

“She smiled at you. At me. It wasn't often, but it happened.” Ishtar took another few steps forward. She was close, could she lunge and grab her before she could jump?

“...I'd forgotten that...isn't that terrible of me? Though...I suppose I don't remember my father at all...” Tine crossed one arm across her stomach, staring at the sky. “There's a little that I associate with him. Flashes of warmth, of laughter, of good food and singing and happy cheers. But I don't remember it...I don't remember the taste of food or the glow of happy, fearless smiles, the warmth of a loving home.” She was silent for a moment. “There's nothing for me here. You won't be able to protect me forever, and then Hilda will...isn't this quicker? Isn't this gentler? If you're high enough up, you pass out before you hit the ground.”

“Tine, no.” Ishtar's voice cracked. “Please, don't leave me...”

Tine tilted her head, but didn't look back at her cousin. “I'm sorry...I've always caused you pain, haven't I? I wish I could have given you more happiness.”

_Naga...please, please, I have no right to ask you for anything, but this is not for me, but for her! She's good, and kind, and she can't die here, please, save her! Save us!_

Ishtar hadn't expected an answer. She hadn't expected anything but the sight of Tine falling, the sound of the impact, the feeling of her cousin's slender wrist slipping out of her hand.

But instead there was a halo of golden light surrounding them, filling her vision until it went a painful white. She heard Tine cry in surprise and scrambled forward, taking the mysterious perfect opportunity to wrap her arms around her cousin's waist. The light didn't go away; instead it grew even brighter, like they were standing in front of someone using the Book of Naga, and suddenly the ground seemed to fall away from beneath her feet. There was a mighty rush of wind, a song that Ishtar could hear but couldn't make out the words to, and the two of them were flying through the sky -

\- and then there was nothing.

* * *

Grass. Dirt. Wind whistling through branches. The distant roar of thunder. Ishtar's fingers twitched as her faculties slowly returned to her, and the first thing she became aware of was a heavy weight on top of her. She tried to move, blinking languidly in an attempt to clear her vision. Stars flickered in a blurry haze that showed her dark green blobs against a dark blue sky; there was some light in the distance (torches?) but it was a ways away. Ishtar groaned, shakily moving her hand and feeling soft fabric and cool skin beneath her fingertips.

 _Was it a nightmare?_ She blinked a few more times, trying to will her vision to focus. It was dark still, but as her eyes cleared up, she saw a canopy of tree branches above her, and just beyond that a sky full of dark, rolling thunderclouds. _No, that can't..._ Startled, she tried to sit up and winced; looking down, she saw Tine sprawled halfway across her chest and lap, moaning and pressing one hand against her head.

“Ow...” Her cousin whimpered, trying to prop herself up by her elbow. Ishtar hissed in pain when she inadvertently dug into her ribs; Tine yelped and fully scrambled off her, eyes wide. She was a little hard to see in the dark, but as Ishtar examined her, she realized with a rush of relief that there was no blood on her that she could see – nothing staining her hair, no sign of her legs or ankles being bent the wrong way. _We...didn't fall? No, something happened. Did I manage to take the brunt of it? No, surely not. I wouldn't be conscious if I fell that far..._ “W-What was that?”

“I don't know,” Ishtar muttered, rubbing her eyes fervently. “That was...something out of the ordinary, to be certain. Was it warp? Rewarp? Gods, that can't be right. I don't remember warp ever feeling like that...” She looked around and balked. “That's...”

Tine looked left and right, and despite the low light, the gasp suggested she immediately realized the same thing that Ishtar had.

This was not the castle courtyard. This...was a roadside in a forest. A single, wide dirt road extended out to the east and the west directly in front of them, an occasional lamp lit by a magic torch lighting the way. The forest was dark, too dark to see anything more than a couple dozen arms-lengths away, and while there was no sign of any people the road was well worn and bore the signs of wheel tracks. Ishtar got to her feet, staring, her fingers clenching and unclenching as her mind buzzed frantically.

Julius would go on a rampage if she vanished.

“Ishtar? W-Where are we?” Tine asked hesitantly.

“I don't know,” Ishtar responded flatly, too exhausted, confused and dazed to say much else. “What is this place?” She looked up and frowned. “And how can it be sunset? It was the middle of the night mere moments ago...have we been unconscious for an entire day?” That couldn't be right, though. There was no way the many wandering brigands of Jugdral would have just ignored two unconscious noble girls lying on the side of a less-traveled road. “What in Naga's name...”

“I-Ishtar...Ishtar, look, look!” Tine tugged hard on her arm, pointing at something a few feet away. Blinking, she followed her cousin's finger...

...And saw a familiar blue book lying in the grass, glittering with blue light. Ishtar sucked in a sharp, disbelieving breath, and took a few hesitant steps towards it. When it didn't disappear when she touched the cover, she picked it up, and was instantly flooded with a warm wave of power and the smell of ozone filled her senses.

“Mjolnir...” She said numbly. _Impossible. Father was keeping the tome with him in Alster. He would never let it out of his sight. It can't possibly be here!_ Yet there was no denying the power she felt within the book, the singing of her major blood. “This can't be an accident.”

A thought struck her, one that she banished immediately. _It can't be so. The gods have left us to our fate._ Still, a chill went down her spine.

“What's happened to us?” Tine asked quietly.

Ishtar shook her head hard, forcing herself to think and be practical. “We'll find out later. For now, we have to get off this road somehow.” She looked back and forth, her stomach sinking. “We have to follow this road and pray that we're not far from the city. There's a storm coming, and likely bandits prowling about.”

“O-Okay...” Tine walked over to her and looked across the road. Ishtar's chest uncoiled a bit at the acceptance, the agreement to keep moving rather than waiting to die. “But which way should we go?”

Ishtar grimaced and looked first to the left, then the right. “Mm...do you remember how we used to climb trees, years back?”

There was a spark of light in Tine's eyes, and she nodded. Ishtar slid Mjolnir into the large pocket of her overcoat and hurried over to the nearest tree. She jumped up and grabbed a branch, walking her feet up the tree trunk until she could swing one leg over and pull herself up fully. Tine was right on her heels as she kept climbing up, wincing when her bare feet, legs and arms scraped against the bark. The upper canopy of leaves was hard to push through, but eventually they were both somewhat precariously balancing on one of the uppermost branches, poking their heads through the top of the tree and looking out across the forest.

It was a miracle – the first Ishtar had experienced in a long, long time. There, not too far in the distance (at least, from this altitude it didn't look too far away) was a huge blaze of golden light that could only come from a highly populated town. “Thank goodness,” She said in relief. Then she gave her head a shake and matter-of-factly said, “Do you have anything in your coat pockets? A handkerchief, slippers, anything?”

“W-Wha? I think so...w-why?”

“So your feet can have at least minimal protection,” Ishtar explained as she started making her way down. Having something to concentrate on, as usual, allowed her to violently push all her emotions aside and lock them away. “Likely this little run is going to hurt quite a bit, but we can try and mitigate damage as much as possible. I'm afraid I don't know anything about healing, so if we get rocks or wooden fragments stuck in our feet...” She let the sentence hang; Tine let out a low whine and scrambled to follow her.

Between them, they had two handkerchiefs and one slipper that Tine had stuck in her coat pocket. Ishtar patiently tied the articles around her cousin's feet, securing it as best she could. After a bit of deliberation (ruefully wishing she'd chosen to wear slippers, and gently but firmly refusing Tine's offer of Aunt Tailtiu's ribbons) she wrapped the slipper around one foot and tied it tightly. “Alright,” She said, getting back to her feet and pulling Tine up. “Let's go.”

They took off down the road, running as fast as they could manage with their legs still stiff from the...whatever-it-was that brought them here. The harsh wind reminded Ishtar with every step that she was wearing nothing but a long nightgown, and that had her constantly looking over her shoulder for bandits or other highwaymen. The bloody streaks of rose in the sky were fading with every moment as the moon rose, leaving their only real light in the spaced-out lanterns. Tine panted harshly and raised her hand into the wind, murmuring something. There was a flicker of green light and then the wind stopped battering Ishtar's face, allowing her to look straight ahead without having her eyes battered close by the wind. _Don't do that,_ she thought in exasperation, _don't wear yourself out, conserve your strength..._ It was good to be able to clearly see the path ahead, though.

They ran, and ran, and ran, only their harsh breathing and the crash of thunder breaking the silence. At some point, the slipper fell off of Ishtar's foot and vanished behind them, leaving her feeling occasional stabs through both her feet instead of just one. She was pretty sure that she had a stone embedded in her left foot, because she felt a spike of pain in the same place every time she took another step. _Pain's an old friend,_ she thought darkly, and didn't make a sound.

She caught Tine's hand at some point and held onto it, the feeling of her cousin's pulse racing under her finger a source of comfort and determination. Tine didn't protest, didn't cry out at any point, though she stumbled a few times and tripped over a fallen branch at one point. Ishtar steadied her and carried her forward, onward, toward the light in the distance that was growing a bit brighter the further along they ran.

Thunder cracked, and Ishtar began to feel drops of rain against her face. She glanced at Tine and saw her looking up at the cloud, panting and looking pained. “Focus...on...running,” She panted. Her lungs were starting to burn, but she ignored it.

The rain was slow at first, but it picked up with an unforgiving rapidness. It quickly soaked into Ishtar's robe, which wasn't meant to provide more than warmth in a cool indoor castle. She had to blink water out of her eyes occasionally as they turned the corner of the road, then another one, as the cold began to sink into her skin.

The sun set, darkness surrounded them except for the lanterns and the approaching city, and the pain in Ishtar's foot was turning blinding. Tine's breath came out in harsh, tortured gasps, and her hand trembled as she fought to keep clinging. The little wind barrier kept surrounding them, providing them some protection from the sheets of rain falling heavily on the ground. Ishtar's legs nearly fell out from under her when she slipped in the mud; this time, Tine caught her, carrying her forward until she managed to regain her sense of balance.

It was dark enough that they nearly ran face-first into the iron gates of the city; thankfully, Ishtar managed to pull them up short at the last second. Her head was spinning from lack of air, she was fairly certain both her feet were bleeding despite how numb they felt, and a chill was starting to creep up on her. Tine was shaking, her hair stuck to her neck and her clothes clinging to her skin. Ishtar looked for guards, but it was hard to see, so she grabbed the gates and ratted them as hard as she could.

She had to do it about three times before someone finally came over to see what the fuss was. It was guard, a young man who's eyes grew really wide when he started to ready his lance only to see two rain-soaked teenage girls before him. “Please help us,” Tine gasped out, reaching a hand through the gate and gazing beseechingly at her. “We're l-lost, w-we've got nowhere else to go. P-please.”

Ishtar expected to be extorted. Expected the guard to leer at them, to require some sort of 'toll' before he allowed them entrance. She expected to have to threaten him. She was more than a little startled when the man hastily put his lance away and unlocked the gate without hesitation. “Of course. Come, this way; the priestess at the church should still be awake.”

Baffled but unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth ( _and perhaps the 'request' for 'payment' would come later_ ), Ishtar let the man lead them across a couple of streets and through an alley, warning them of pieces of wood and glass scattered about so they wouldn't step on them. He led them to a tall, elegant-looking church and hammered on the door. Minutes later, a woman in white opened it and gasped the moment her eyes settled on them.

“Blessed Sothis have mercy,” She whispered, before whirling around. “Gustav, get some water and come back, quickly; Aimee, go and get some towels and blankets.” She turned around and gently took Ishtar's hands in her own. “Here, lean on my shoulder, child. Keep as much weight off of your feet as you can. Please, guardsman, help her the same way.”

Ishtar nodded distantly, trying to focus just on breathing as they were carefully guided over to a pew and set down upon the cushioned wood. The guardsman hurried over to one of the pillars and brought down the torch from its holster, returning and kneeling on the ground so the priestess could better see what damage had been done to her feet. As she examined first Ishtar, then Tine, a long string of worried and sympathetic murmuring falling from her lips as she looked, blankets were wrapped around Ishtar's shoulders from behind. She blinked and looked up, trying to focus on another girl in robes as she hurried over to do the same to Tine in the pew across from her.

A few moments later, as the priestess began picking stones out of the bottom of her foot, a man appeared with a mug of water which he gave to Ishtar – urging her to drink slowly from it. Ishtar took three sips, enough to soothe her burning throat, than quietly insisted he pass it to Tine. She only relaxed a bit when she saw her cousin take a big, deep gulp.

“Go ahead and lie down,” the priestess told her, touching her wrist. “Sleep, child, sleep. The church of Serios always has an open room for lost souls. You are safe here. You will be protected.”

 _Church...of Serios? Sothis?_ What were these names?

Ishtar lay back on the cushions, lightly clinging to the warm towel. Perhaps...perhaps she could figure it out in the morning. The last thing she heard before falling asleep was the continued work and promises of the kindest priestess she'd ever met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this chapter was heavy. Ishtar's depression and Tine's fear/despair hung over me like a cloud the whole time I was writing. Genealogy's second generation is a really dark place; Three Houses has a lot of dark themes, but it never goes just as Explicit as the latter game does (probably because they wanted Certain Characters to stay sympathetic...with middling results, as far as I'm concerned...) Seriously, if you look at the plight of second gen before Seliph goes on his crusade, Fodlan pre-war looks like a paradise no sane, good-intentioned person would disturb. 
> 
> Next chapter, Isthar and Tine meet the Golden Deer under somewhat chaotic circumstances!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about damned time I updated this!
> 
> (sigh) I'm sorry this took so long, everyone who's read this. All I can say is that The Savior King took hold of my muse in its iron grip and refused to let go. (I think the fact that it's nearly 350k words long speaks for itself...) That, and I had some personal problems that cropped up - nothing serious, but distracting. But I've finally managed to get back to this.
> 
> I kind of don't want to promise an update schedule due to this atrocious slip of mine, but I do want to say I haven't abandoned this idea - there's too much going on in it for me to do that. I hope you enjoy the new chapter.

The church was peaceful and comfortable, the bed she had been provided was soft and the blankets fluffy. No one lingered threateningly outside her door, there was no distant but still audible sound of people being dragged from their beds – only the singing of the choir in the morning's service and the distant sounds of a busy marketplace.

It was all so bizarre.

Ishtar woke early to the pink rays of sunlight streaming through the window. Instinctively her hand grasped at the sheets next to her, searching for Julius. It took a moment of not finding him – of blearily wondering if she'd forgotten something important, if another batch of Hunted children had been brought in so soon after the last ones, if he had gone to court early to make an example of some traitors – before she remembered where she was.

Wherever _that_ happened to be.

She lay in bed, carefully still, listening for sounds in the hallway. For the creaking of floorboards that would indicate that guards stood outside their door, that a patrol was keeping an eye on them. It was what Manfroy would have done; no one in Belhalla except for Julius slept without a watchman. For safety purposes, of course – who knew what sort of trickery those filthy rebels would employ? And after the beloved Empress was murdered within the confines of her own castle, this was clearly a common sense measure to ensure the continued safety of her only remaining heir. The Priests of Loptous would see to it.

Yet for as carefully as she listened for many long, uneasy moments...she heard nothing. The hallway was quiet and peaceful.

So strange.

 _I wonder how far out from Belhalla we are. They must be quite confident that there won't be trouble to be so relaxed..._ Ishtar sat up slowly, wincing at her stiff muscles. Clearly her body didn't appreciate how hard she had pushed it the previous night.

She quickly looked about, and let out a sigh of relief when her eyes settled upon a familiar figure. Tine was curled up in a bed right across from her, burrowing deeply in the silk blankets. Her cousin's breathing was even; the running they'd done had tired her out to the point that she was sleeping without nightmares. A small blessing in the midst of this strangeness.

Ishtar looked about the room. It was small, modestly appointed and bearing soft yellow wallpaper. On the desk that was propped up against the opposite wall lay two pairs of flesh clothes, and Mjolnir. _Oh, thank the gods...they didn't confiscate it._ That would have been a foolhardy decision to make overall, but it would have weakened her not insignificantly and thus make refusing any demands a more dangerous game.

Who could afford to be so trusting of strangers in these times?

* * *

 _Let's play a game, Ishtar, Tine,_ Aunt Tailtiu's soft, wavering voice drifted through her memory. _I'm going to describe the marketplace of a city to you, and you're going to see if you know which kingdom it belongs to. Do you think you can do that?_

_Yes! I've read aaalllll the maps in papa's study; I'm gonna blow you away, Tine!_

_No way! Ishtore's told me all about the places he's going to see when he's made a squire, I won't loose easily!_

_Hehe...well, we'll see, shall we?_

* * *

Ishtar blew out a soft breath and pushed the comforter covering her aside. She was still wrapped in blankets from head to toe, hiding her soft skin from any prying eyes. Her feet were covered in bandages; she propped her right leg up on her knees and cautiously probed the curve of her foot, judging how well they had been tended to.

Other than a slight discomfort, she felt perfectly fine – as if rocks and twigs hadn't been embedded into her flesh mere hours ago. They had enough healing staffs to spend charges on any frantic stranger who came to them for sanctuary? Ishtar added _highly placed favors_ to her list of possible explanations to the odd peace that was lingering over this abbey; it made about as much sense as anything else.

Experimentally, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly. Once it was clear that even that didn't cause anything more than mild discomfort, she made her way over to the window and pushed the silk curtains aside.

Sunlight blazed across a clear blue sky, warming her skin as she lay her hands against the glass. The massive expanse of the ocean greeted her eyes, glittering like a priceless jewel, reaching further than vision could follow. A large port rested at the edge of the waters, holding both small fishing boats and larger trade ships. From her vantage point – they'd been placed in a room fairly high up in the building, a third or fourth floor, if she estimated correctly. The city below her was bustling; it was a modest place of one-story houses, winding streets and the smell of good food. Modest, yes...but full of cheer and ease. Comfort. It was well cared for and well maintained.

Nothing like anything Ishtar had seen in years.

 _There's so many people out and about..._ Ishtar thought in wonder. _Even lower Belhalla hasn't been this active in the middle of the day for some time. Where are we?_ She leaned forward on the windowsill, scanning the area she could see for anything that looked familiar. _Is this some remote corner of Issach? An island that refugees fled to that has managed to go undiscovered all this time?_

It was the closest comparison that came to mind – despite how long Issach had been occupied by the Granvelle army, they'd never been able to fully cover its territory. The dense forests and mountains played many tricks on would-be mapmakers, and there seemed to be no end of secret villages not unlike Verdane's Spirit Forest that hunted civilians could disappear into.

That was the most widely accepted reason they'd yet to find and capture Prince Shannan, anyway. Ishtar rather suspected that the young royal had a network of supporters that Dannan wasn't willing to admit existed. He was on thin ice with Emperor Arvis was it was.

 _...There must be guards on the roads down there,_ she reasoned after a moment, attempting to find some sense in this tranquility. _Mercenaries meant to keep the peace, if not bishops of Loptous. I must not be able to see them from this vantage point._ She gave her head a shake. _Hired hands who prefer peace, quiet and comfort to exerting their authority to petty ends...I suppose it's not impossible. Ishtore has a knack for finding people like that._

It was odd. Theoretically it made sense for there to be some hidden corners of Judgral that the Cult had been unable to penetrate, but she would have thought she'd have heard Manfroy grumbling about not having men in a clearly profitable city. For there to be this many people out and about, trade and commerce had to be very strong.

“...Ngh...”

The sound of Tine stirring pulled Ishtar from her whirling thoughts. Ishtar twisted to look at over at her bed; Tine's form was shivering slightly, her hands jerking as if trying to reach someone. _Are you having that dream again?_ The soldiers who had brought her and Aunt Tailtiu to the family all those years ago claimed that they had been abandoned in the mountains, speaking solemnly even as Tailtiu railed and screamed at them for attacking her maids and guards and leaving them to die. Tine had been too young to truly remember that night, only flashes and cries that had haunted her sleep ever since.

Hastening to her cousins' beside, she carefully sat next to her and shook the slender girl's shoulder. “I'm here, Tine,” She whispered, running her fingers over the soft red ribbon tangled in the strands of her silver hair. “I'm here. Wake up.”

Mother hated it when Tine screamed from night terrors. ( _Mother hated it when Tine did much of anything aside from blink or breathe_.) Ishtar did her best to soothe her cousin ( _her sister, really_ ) and wake her slowly so no one would know of her distress.

Tine's shivering abated slowly under the touch. After a few moments, she blinked heavily a few times before her emerald green eyes fluttered opened. There was wetness in the corners of her eyes. “...Tari?” She mumbled, reaching up with one hand up from under the blankets.

“It's me,” Ishtar assured her, brushing her bangs aside. “We're safe, for the moment.”

Tine's brow furrowed a little as her sleepiness continued to slowly drain away, letting that thought settle for a moment before its inherit oddness sank in. Those emerald pools widened as the memories asserted themselves and she scrambled to sit up, looking around the room and wiggling her feet; the blankets rustled from her efforts. “Oh...! W-Where are we?” She mumbled.

“I – I'm not sure,” It was a hard admission to make; knowing that she was the sole source of protection Tine could count on with Ishtore away running Melgen meant she could very rarely afford to fail. “I don't recognize the town at all...and there's no sign we're being guarded.” _Yet, anyway._

Tine pushed herself up on her elbows and stared anxiously back at her. “T-Then what should we do?”

Ishtar took a deep breath and contemplated that for a moment. Frankly, it was fair question. “We should find out where we are,” she said with a calm she didn't quite feel. “And see if we can get some food and water. I don't think the priestess would begrudge us that much, seeing as she was willing to spend staff charges to heal our injuries last night.”

“She did?” Tine repeated, backing up against the head of the bed. She pulled one of her legs up and placed her ankle across her knee, goggling at the pristine white bandages binding her injuries. “W-Why? I didn't have anything to pay her with...”

“Neither did I,” Ishtar muttered. “And she left Mjolnir with us. This is an odd abbey...that's why I think we're safe here for now.” She stood up. “In any case, we should get dressed and try to get a grasp on the situation we're in. Come, there have been clothes laid out for us.”

Tine slowly slid out of bed, shaking her head disbelievingly. Ishtar walked to the dresser, shaking her hair out and critically eyeing the outfits offered. They were modest and simple enough...actually, they rather looked like old military academy uniforms. At least, that's the impression she got looking at them. _How odd for something like that to be here._ Expelling a long breath, Ishtar gave the closed door one final wary look before beginning to change.

It felt odd; to not be wearing silk and satin. Oh, the outfit wasn't uncomfortable by any means, far from it – but she could just imagine the looks on her parents faces to see her dressed so casually. _Mother might actually have a stroke; unless she got her hands on the one who gifted them to me first..._ Ishtar turned the sleeves back a bit and straightened the collar before picking up the jacket that completed the ensemble. The leather was warm in her hands, and it had deep pockets. Not enough to entirely envelope Mjolnir, but close.

Tine was fumbling her way into the clothes with much more confidence than she herself felt. Then she snagged the hairbrush after carefully working the precious ribbons out of her hair. “There's really no one outside waiting for us?” She asked dubiously as she went to work.

“Unless they can walk on wood without making a sound, yes.”

“...Then this isn't a Loptous Abbey? Do you think someone took us to one of Father Claude's old churches in Edda?”

“Edda is too highly policed for our arrival to go unnoticed.”

“But if we're not in Edda, were are we?”

Ishtar, her own hair drawn back in a ponytail once more, stepped over to help Tine with her ribbons. “We'll find out, don't worry.”

A few moments later they were both as presentable as possible under the circumstances; Ishtar grabbed the doorhandle and twisted it. “Hello?” She called as she pushed the door open. An empty hallway greeted the two of them.

“...Is this some kind of trick?” Tine wondered as she cautiously peeked out. “Even the small abbeys must have guards to check travelers for smuggled goods or poaching.”

“It's hard to universally enforce such broad regulations. No doubt that many of the less traveled places have been ignoring them for some time now. Let's be cautious, but proceed anyway.” Ishtar turned and placed a hand on the top of her head. “Don't worry. I'll protect you.”

Tine nodded meekly. Guilt flashed in her eyes and her shoulders slumped again. No doubt remembering...Ishtar felt her smile grow stiff and quickly turned her head away. _Just forget about that night, Tine. Thrud knows I'm trying to._

_Forget everything except that strange light effect. That must have been a spell of some sort, and a very powerful one at that. But who would have had that power and a grudge against the Empire in Belhalla? And if they were that strong, why didn't they kill us? Why bother with...whatever this is?_

Ishtar found the spiral staircase and lead Tine down them. Service seemed to have ended, judging by the general babble that was drifting up to them; there had been a large turnout too, found the sounds of things. When they reached the ground floor, Ishtar nudged her cousin up against the wall and peered carefully through the window in the door. Peasants and those she'd tentatively call middle class ( _which was odd because it was hard to find people who were neither starving nor rich beyond measure in Jugdral_ ) were streaming through the hall, chattering amicably with each other. Aside from a few tired individuals, here and there, she didn't see slumped shoulders or wrists rubbed raw from chains of forced labor; none wore rags or prison clothes. Ishtar gasped when she saw children as young as five, six and seven bouncing about and running underfoot without a care in the world.

Why were they not hidden away?! Why would their parents bring them to an abbey in broad daylight?!

Yet...none of the parents looked worried, not in the slightest. All of them had relaxed posture, some of them seeming utterly at peace; no one who walked into a Loptous church outside of the cult wore such expressions.

Tine saw it too; she goggled at the children scampering all over the hall, her mouth hanging open slightly. After a second, she twisted and stared up at her, clearly in hopes of an explanation. Ishtar could only shrug in helpless confusion.

A child tripped and stumbled onto the floor near them; upon getting up, the girl with her hair tied back in golden pigtails blinked up at them through the window she could just barely see through. After a second, she beamed without restraint or suspicion, waved, and rushed off again, leading her exasperated mother to chase after her.

Ishtar raised one hand to her lips, shaken. _A warm, carefree smile..._ How long had it been since she saw something like that?

After a minute or so, the last of the worshipers had dispersed, and Ishtar pushed the door open leading Tine into the hall. She looked about in wonder; the stain glass window above the door depicted a dragon flying overhead of a woman in robes who knelt with a sword held in front of her. _Is...that some sort of image of Naga? A depiction of her duality, a divine dragon who chose to take human form out of love for us? I've never seen something comparable..._

“Ah, you're awake.”

Ishtar's attention snapped forward again at the faintly familiar voice. Tine instinctively darted behind her, one hand on her elbow as she nervously stared at the priestess who had emerged from the cathedral, smiling kindly at them.

She was an older woman, judging by the wrinkles in her face. Yet she was healthy, round in the belly and skin free of scars or blemishes, her hair smooth and well-maintained. It was so bizarre, to see a humble woman of faith ( _she didn't have the ornate wear of a Bishop_ ) in such a good state.

“You were in quite the state when you arrived,” She said, what looked like concern in her eyes. Ishtar had learned to be wary of the sincerity of such sentiments...she wrinkled her brow, reading the woman's face for any tells that might warn her of the contrary. “Without shoes or proper cloaks...Are you fleeing from someone?”

 _So you don't recognize me off-hand...that makes sense, if this town is isolated. What to say..._ Ishtar thought rapidly for a moment, going through her options. Asking for sanctuary would be out of the question; Julius might misinterpret that as her and Tine being held captive here, and that would be a poor way to repay the kindness this abbey and shown them. Introducing herself and Tine properly could leave them at the mercy of angry civilians clever enough to ambush them somehow...that wasn't a huge threat to Ishtar herself, but Tine was somewhat more vulnerable. Of course, that didn't mean she had to lie very much to give her a story close to the truth.

“Not from anyone we know. We were abducted from our homes and woke up on a roadside we were unfamiliar with,” Ishtar invented. She was wary of mentioning the light and the song; even a woman of the cloth might well find that too much to swallow. “Fortunately, they stepped away from us for some reason, giving us a chance to escape. We followed the road to this village as fast as we could...we seemed to have lost them, but now we ourselves are quite lost.”

The priestess seemed to accept this at face value; her expression grew solemn. “Banditry has been plaguing the lands all over for years now,” She said. “The church has been dispatching more and more knights to combat it, but they're simply spread too thin. I'm glad that you two managed to escape before they were able to do you any further harm.”

“T-thank you,” Tine mumbled, bowing deeply.

“How are you feeling now? Are you experiencing any phantom pain in your feet?” The priestess asked, looking them both over. The gesture was oddly non-invasive, unlike the Loptous bishops Ishtar was used to dealing with. _Odd, very odd...I'll have to ask the village lord where he found the people of this abbey..._

“No, not hardly; your healing was very skillful. I hope it wasn't a burden upon you.” _Staffs are expensive to maintain, after all._

“Oh, please.” The priestess almost looked affronted by the words, which was...unexpected. “I assure you, tending to your wounds cost me nothing. It is my duty to help those who are lost and in trouble.”

“I...see,” Ishtar said, slightly on the back foot.

“I was going to send someone to check on you, but now that you're here...are you hungry? You must be; it's nearly noon now.” The older woman gestured down the hall toward another set of doors. “We don't have a great variety here in this small church, but I hope we'll have something you'll enjoy.”

 _This is a small church? But it's three stories tall at the least,_ Ishtar thought in bewilderment. _What on earth would you consider a big church, if this is small?_ “Thank you,” She said politely. A thought struck her, and she quickly added, “If it were at all possible, might I also be granted a map of the local lands? I wish to get a better sense of where we are at the moment.”

“That is not a problem,” The priestess assured her, starting to walk off in the direction of the room. Tine gave Ishtar a questioning look; the princess did her best to smile reassuringly.

“Don't worry,” She said. “I'll make a plan.”

“For what?” Tine asked uneasily. “What if your m-mother t-t-thinks we ran a-away?”

“Julius will dissuade her,” Ishtar responded with dull confidence. ( _After all, he'd attacked her mother for making her sad before_.) “Aren't you hungry?”

That made Tine smile just a little bit. The sight warmed the older girl's heart – just a little bit. “Yeah.”

They followed the priestess down the hall and into a side room past the cathedral. It was a humble study, with two tables placed next to each other and covered with various fruit and bread delicacies. Tine let out a startled, happy sound at the sight of the bowls of grapes and apples; she hurried to a chair and grabbed her favorite food in both hands, momentarily forgetting her manners at the sight of the rate delicacies. Ishtar would have apologized on her behalf, but the priestess – once again displaying her oddness – just smiled indulgently at the sight and urged her to join her cousin before stepping out of the room to get the map.

Bemused, Ishtar sat down herself and studied the table, unsure where to start. The amount of fruit on the table amazed her; unless you were in Belhalla, fruit was comparatively harder to come by these days. ( _After all so many farmers were being murdered and their children stolen away for the hunts, so who was there to till the fields?_ ) The sight was legitimately mouth-watering; if she hadn't been hungry when she woke, she was now.

Taking a handful of grapes, Ishtar started to snack on one at a time. “It's good, isn't it?” She asked teasingly, watching Tine devour the food with gusto.

Tine, tears at the edges of her eyes as she stuffed her face, nodded vehemently. Ishtar was struck with the horrible sinking feeling that her mother had been starving her cousin – again – while she had been out on deployment...

“Here you go, my lady,” The priestess said again, handing her a well-worn role of parchment.

“Thank you kindly,” Ishtar said, accepting it and carefully clearing a place on the table for it. Nodding, the priestess stepped out again as Tine leaned over to see it.

Ishtar unrolled the parchment...and stared.

Because what she saw made no sense. There wasn't a single familiar landmark or duchy name that she could point to. There were three kingdoms drawn across it instead of one, a 'heart' in the middle of the land that had no equivalent on any map she remembered looking at. There was no sign of her home of Alster.

The map was titled “Fodlan”.

“Ishtar?” Tine asked nervously. “What...what's wrong?”

Ishtar let out a shuddering breath, still staring uncomprehendingly at the map. Unbidden, her mind went back to that moment on the balcony – the blazing white light, the song she had heard all around her, the feeling of being carried away.

_Naga...are you playing a grand trick on me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than I wanted it to be, but this chapter was a bit of a necessary evil. Despite my initial plans, I didn't get around to the pirate attack and the Golden Deer meeting our two girls yet; Ishtar had a lot to say about just how weird Fodlan is from her perspective. 
> 
> I'm tempted to do another rotating perspective thing for this story - two chapters from Ishtar's POV, two chapters from Tine's POV. I'm quite eager to write something from Tine's perspective; she's my favorite 2 Gen character alongside Seliph.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tine ponders the strange world she's in, and deals with some pirates.

Whenever there was joy and hope in a place, Tine von Silesse stood on her toes and waited for the other shoe to drop.

It felt like a trap, wandering through the streets of this seaside town and watching farmers and tradesmen cheerfully interact in a bustling market without a hint of suspicion. It played on her nerves even worse than if they'd woken up in a Loptous Abbey; at least then she would know what to expect. This? This...quiet, happy place? What was she supposed to do here? How could she possibly accept this place as real?

 _You know, hope is a mistake,_ Ishtore's had mused once, swirling the wine in his glass idly. _If you can't fix what's broken, you'll go insane._

Even now Tine wasn't certain if he'd been talking to her or himself. Either made sense; Ishtar had just helped him ensure a handful of children escaped from the child hunts, after all.

Everything about the town she was in made her anxious. It was bright and warm, full of laughter and music from buskers playing at street corners. Children darted to and fro, utterly unafraid, getting underfoot as they played games of war with sticks and wooden swords. Young couples laughed without a care in the world, waving cheerfully to guards who waved back and called them by name. Vendors and shopkeepers offered discounts and there were carts of _fruits_ and _vegetables_ for sale at what she presumed to be decent prices given how many people were going to and from the carts. There wasn't a cloud in the sky; the sun shone brightly down on them as if the gods themselves were watching with approval. This just couldn't be _real_. 

Yet even as the hours ticked on, she couldn't find a catch. She kept waiting to see what had to be sold for this peace and comfort to exist; even Belhalla, the rich and powerful heart of Judgral, didn't have such a warm and carefree atmosphere.

She couldn't find anything.

Tine was beginning to seriously consider if she was dead.

She fell from that balcony, the light and song had been Naga spiriting her soul away, and this was some sort of strange purgatory that she had to navigate in penance for taking her own life. The fact that she still slept and felt pain were sticking points in this theory, but Tine was at a loss for what else this might be.

“-Finest silk to be found in the Alliance! Wouldn't you agree, young lady?”

Tine's heart jumped into her chest; she twisted to stare over her shoulder at the vendor who had called out to her. The older man waved her over with enthusiasm, which spiked her nerves rather than soothed them out of habit. “Might I have a moment of your time?”

Ishtar squeezed her wrist reassuringly; Tine blew out a small breath. _I'm safe as long as she's with me,_ she reminded herself, before tentatively walking across the road to the vendor's stall. “I wouldn't know, sir,” She said demurely. “We've only just arrived here a little while ago; I haven't gotten to see all it has to offer.”

“Ah, you're a traveler then?” The merchant beamed at her, his expression warm and friendly. His eyes kept to her face as he asked, “Have the sights impressed you so far?”

“It's quite beautiful,” Tine said in all sincerity – the atmosphere and the healthy forest was unlike anything she could remember seeing. “We haven't been here long, but even what little I've seen has left me in awe.”

These people were so _happy_. Were the people in Belhalla this happy?

“Well, perhaps you can find something here to comfort you through your travels?” The merchant picked up one of the brightly colored scarves from his display and offered it to her. Tine tentatively accepted, marveling at how smooth and soft it was beneath her fingers. It was a remarkable shade of crimson red. “The further north you travel, the cooler it will get. Many colors could play off your hair beautifully, but this one in particular would match your ribbons.”

“It's very fine,” Tine murmured. “I'm afraid I don't have much in the way of local currency...” She and Ishtar both had gold from home, of course, but merchants and innkeepers would likely find coins with Emperor Arvis's head on them odd at the least.

“That's all right; I'll sell it at a discount.”

Tine blinked rapidly. “T-That won't hurt your coffers, will it?” Surely material this fine couldn't be sold short on a whim, even in a comfortable place like this?

“Ah, it's kind of you to be concerned, but it's no trouble! Trade in the Leicester Alliance is rich and fruitful, and the day is still young.” He smiled kindly at her. She couldn't see any deception in him; it was wide-eyed earnestness. Some of the new servants would come to Alster with that look in their eyes; it never stayed long. “Every young woman should feel beautiful. Being able to gift that feeling to a stranger is priceless.”

Tine felt her cheeks turn slightly red; she glanced back at Ishtar, who looked a little taken aback before quickly schooling her face back into friendly neutrality. Her cousin nodded lightly at her, giving her a little smile, and she counted out the coins the abbess had so kindly given them. Thankfully, she did have enough to pay for it without dipping into their gold from home.

Red reminded her of mother. Mother had given her the ribbons...maybe she would have given her a scarf too, if they'd stayed in Silesse...if...if...

She thanked the man profusely as she wrapped the scarf around her neck and started walking away; he seemed surprised by the depths of her reaction, responding warmly if a little confused.

“So the merchants as odd as the priestess...” Ishtar mused as they walked through the square. Two boys playing with wooden swords crashed into her leg; one of them paused long enough to apologize before tearing after his friend, who'd rushed off not out of fear from having contact with Isthar but simply being too absorbed in the game. “I wonder who's protecting this village for it to be so peaceful.”

“Ishtar? ...What do you think happened to us?” Tine glanced up at her from beneath her bangs. She took a deep breath, the cool salty tang of a sea breeze hitting the back of her throat. “They call this place the Leicester Alliance, and this town is under the rule of a local lord who doesn't answer to a king.” They'd done a bit of asking around in the church before stepping outside – awkward questions, to hide how little they truly knew – yet they'd left the building no less confused than when they'd entered it. “Do you think we've been transported across the ocean? They say there's nothing beyond the shores of Judgral, but – but what if they're wrong?”

“...That makes about as much sense as any of my theories,” Ishtar acknowledged, grasping her arm with one hand and tapping her fingers against her elbow. It was a nervous tick of hers that had grown much more pronounced as she spent more and more time leading alongside Hilda and visiting Julius in Belhalla. “I...I have to admit, I'm not certain how to proceed.”

That made Tine's stomach sink a bit. Ishtar and Ishtore had never failed to give her useful advice or come up with some sort of plan to put her in the safest positions possible. Realizing that neither of them, stuck as they were in a completely foreign location with nothing but Thrud's ancestral weapon and the clothes on their backs, knew what to do was alarming.

However, Ishtar also never gave up without a fight. “At least we can count on the church to provide shelter for us,” she murmured, “but I don't know how long sanctuary lasts in these parts. I think the best course of action right now is for me to find work of some kind while we try to plan our next move. To have lands this peaceful, the lord and his local retainers must be hiring mercenaries by the hundreds.”

“I...I can fight too. Shouldn't I also try to sign up?” Tine asked.

“I'd rather you stayed safe,” Ishtar said reluctantly. “Though I suppose if we're to have any hope of securing accommodations outside the church, both of us will need to find jobs. Are you sure you wouldn't first find work as a delivery girl or assistant shopkeeper? I know it's hardly work fit for a princess, but I doubt either of our royal credentials count for much out here.”

“It's worth considering, and I'm hardly too proud to apply for them,” Tine promised her, “I just – I want to stay close to you, Ishtar. Even if you're armed with Mjolnir, mercenary work is dangerous...I...I don't want anything to happen to you...”

The edges of her eyes blurred, much to her distress; it was pathetic how little it took to make her break down. Her spirit was frayed at the edges, so weak compared to Ishtar's, yet the latter never begrudged her for it. She rubbed her eyes on her arm, muttering about sea salt; any weakness had to be suppressed quickly.

“I'm no easy mark, Tine,” Ishtar said, putting an arm around her shoulders as she'd so often done with they were young. “Try not to worry about me.”

“Who will worry if not me?” Tine parroted back. How many times had they had this particular back in forth? _The gods know Hilda will not worry; only throw a fit about how her connection to the throne of Belhalla has suddenly vanished. If Bloom even notices, I bet he'll be much the same._

_Julius will worry. ...That scares me as much as it gives me some comfort. Maybe more._

Julius hadn't been the same since he started carrying that book around. Tine had no idea what happened to him, but she knew it had something to do with that horrible dark priest who never left court...Manfroy...

Not that there was much of a point of thinking about that as long as they were in this place...the Leicester Alliance... Fodlan...

Ishtar smiled and patted the top of her head.

That's when Tine finally heard a familiar sound – frightened screaming.

* * *

It was isolated at first, but then it started to spread, filtering into the market square. Guards, who had been casually leaning against house walls and chatting with merchants and mothers watching their children play, stiffened and went for their weapons.

“Pirates!” The word echoed through the air, cutting across much of the dialogue ongoing between the people of the square. “Pirates are coming! Pirates at the gates!”

Alarm swept through the people like wildfire; merchants scrambled to close their carts, mothers rushed to collect their children and hurried them through the alleyways and into the houses surrounding the area. Yet even this wasn't quite what Tine expected from an invasion; the fear that quickly came over everyone around them was fierce, yes, but it didn't devolve into panic. The civilian retreat was orderly; the guards began to form up with professional and well-practiced precision.

Pirates...yes, that made sense. Finally something did. This was a much better target for plundering than the starving towns of Issach or Silesse; there was actually something worth taking. Tine was almost amused to realize that she didn't feel very scared.

She lived with worse than pirates every day.

“My lady, my lady,” Tine's attention was grabbed by a guard and his partner, who had approached them as they stood in place as opposed to fleeing like the others. “Please, go and take shelter. Almyran pirates won't be kind to women they capture.”

Ishtar, who's hand had fallen onto the pocket that contained Mjolnir, responded exactly as Tine would expect her to after only a moment of thought. “Let me go out with you,” She said. “I've mastered magic. I can fight.”

The guard looked baffled, glancing between her and Tine. “My lady, we can't possibly allow that,” He protested. “Your protection is our responsibility.”

“ _I can fight,_ ” Ishtar insisted firmly, squaring her shoulders back. She looked regal in her cool composure; fearless and powerful. “I am no helpless wallflower, despite my looks. I want to help; I have a unique family magic I can bring to bear in the town's defense.”

“I can too,” Tine said, summoning her courage and focusing on keeping her voice even. Ishtar would have given her a disapproving look if they weren't presenting a united front; even though she taught her cousin how to fight herself ( _it wasn't like Hilda or Bloom would waste time or money on a traitor's daughter-_ ) she much preferred for her to hide away when trouble started. “I've fought in battles with brigands before; run of the mill pirates are nothing new.”

The guards exchanged uneasy looks; neither of them looked happy, but they did look contemplative – swayed by the sheer weight of Ishtar's charisma. “The Knights of Serios haven't arrived yet,” the second reminded his friend. “They may be late; cross-country travel hasn't been the smoothest.”

“...” The first blew out a long breath. “It goes against my instincts, but...very well. Just please promise me that you will fall back if you get injured.”

Tine almost snickered at the idea that common vagabonds would even be able to get close to her cousin, but caught herself. It wasn't kind to laugh at sincere concern; such a rare gift should be treasured, not mocked.

“Yes sir,” Ishtar replied politely.

Still not looking quite happy with this decision, but accepting it nonetheless, the two guards led them out of the monastery toward the docks. Villagers were still darting past them; Tine saw guards dragging out wagons and large chunks of stone at the city gates in order to form a barricade to keep the pirates out of the residential area. Her heart was pounding in his chest, acknowledging fear, yet she felt strangely calm – this was familiar. This, she knew what to do about.

And...she also felt something – almost like a spark of defiance. This was a gentle, happy place, and now brigands would destroy even this little pocket of happiness?

No. She wouldn't allow it. If she was going to live long enough to take to a real battlefield, she would acquit herself in a manner that would make her mother, who had slipped away from her father to fight for what she believed in, proud.

_Watch over us, mother...intercede with Naga for us, and these people too..._

The other guards looked like pole-axed to see them trotting at the heels of their companions; a lot of confused, alarmed and annoyed words flew back and forth between them when they reached the bare ranks that had moved ahead. Tine noticed that, for such a wealthy town, there weren't many people to protect it – a couple dozen at most.

They were expecting reinforcements, these 'Knights of Serios', to reinforce them...but why would any sensible lord leave a thriving port a mere skeleton guard to defend it? What if one of his rivals decided he wanted the commerce that flowed freely through it?

Ishtar maintained her composure, calmly repeating what she'd said before as she removed Mjolnir from her pocket. It was at this point that Tine realized that she had no tome of her own, which left her a bit chagrined; she would have to rely on her innate magic to cast the spells.

The potential threat of magic burnout was less, thanks to her Holy Blood, but it still loomed over her...she would have to make sure that not one spell she cast was wasted.

There was a single long pathway out to a stone pier that most of the ships seemed to dock at. Two small vessels were already burning and sunk; three large ships with makeshift sails with scrabbled, hastily-repainted sails ( _those were falsified; a feint to hide the identity of the attackers, though perhaps not immediately obvious_ ) and dozens of men standing on the decks, armed with axes and bows and swords. Tine heard the impatient shriek of a wyvern from further back on the ships; they had at least one, possibly more – it wouldn't be easy to keep those large creatures fed in oversea travel.

 _If they have wyverns on board, they wouldn't have horses –_ _too much risk of the former eating the latter._ That was a relief. Wyverns were nothing to trifle with, even if they had a weakness for magic.

Ishtar's hand slipped into hers, squeezing it reassuringly. “Stay close to me,” She murmured.

“I know.”

Tine narrowed her eyes and reached out to the wind.

Those who carried the blood of Forseti had an innate connection to the wind that even the strongest mage without it could not match. Even blessed with only minor blood, Tine could whip up a storm if she poured enough time and magic into it. It would be very taxing, but she could do it – sink each of these ships herself.

_And then pass out, sleep for two days, and scare the living hells out of Ishtar. But I would sink them._

She doubted she had the time...but she could whip up a wind strong enough to toss some people overboard.

Sensing what she was winding up to do, Ishtar patted her arm, then pulled her hand back and slid Mjolnir under her arm. Thin flickers of lightning curled around her wrist, filling Tine's nose with the smell of ozone. The pirates were laughing at the small force facing them, taunting and making rude gestures.

“How juvenile,” Her cousin muttered. Then she strode forward, putting herself at the head of the guard, and projected her voice across the waters. “Pirates, rats of the seas, come to prey on innocent and helpless. Turn back from this port! You are not welcome here! We extend you this one chance to leave with your lives; refuse it, persist in this path, and we shall not hold back!”

Tine shivered at the authority in her voice. When Hilda gave orders, she sounded like a child making demands of her parents. When Ishtar delivered commands, she sounded like a princess – no, like a queen.

There was a frozen moment of disbelief; the pirates paused their taunting to stare at her. The guards were staring too, which made Tine wince and duck her head awkwardly.

Then the captain laughed; he pushed his men aside and put his foot up on the railing, pointing at her. “That's a good joke, little girl! Perhaps I'll take you aboard as my _personal guest_ once we've plundered this place properly,” Tine's fingers dug into her palm, fear and anger pulsing through her blood in equal measure at hearing that sort of threat yet again. “I'll teach you manners, real nice. Spare the pretty ones, boys, but go and have your fun!”

The pirates all roared in agreement.

Ishtar sighed in irritation. “Such a grotesque threat. Do they have none other when faced with a woman?” She reached out her hand, pointing one finger at the hull of the ship. “There's nothing more to be said.”

Tine quickly threw up her arm to shield her eyes.

* * *

The light of Mjolnir's lightning could render a person blind if they were unlucky. The world around the edges of her arm went _pure white_ ; static crackled across her loose clothes, making her hair stand up on end. An earth-shattering impact, the splintering of wood and the crackling of fire burst seconds later, followed quickly by dozens of screams and the alarmed shrieking of the wyvern on board. Tine heard a number of their fellow guards yelp and stumble backwards; she lowered her arm, blinking little blots of light out of her eyes as she examined the results.

A massive hole, bigger than a cannonball impact, had been blasted in the hull of the pirate ship; it was taking water by the gallon, rocking violently and tossing some of her crew overboard. Tine, knowing that this was her moment, let out a long whistle and raised her hand straight up. Warm green light wrapped around her hands and then flew up into the air...

And the wind came. ( _sometimes the wind made her think of father. It was really the only thing of his that she had_ )

The howling blast of air tore over the top of the ship, sending dozens of men flying out into the ocean and rocking the ship onto its side – putting the entire hole Ishtar had created entirely underwater. The mast cracked under the pressure, and the wyvern who had been onboard had taken to the sky with its rider on its back. The captain fell into the ocean as his ship turned on its side, only the men who had clambered down the gangplanks onto the pier being ready for battle.

Tine let the wind go, breathing out heavily. “Will need a few minutes before I can do something like that again,” She said to the dumbstruck guards, who were now staring at her and Ishtar as though they were dragons.

“Are...are you Crest-bearers?” One of the men asked tentatively.

Ishtar glanced away from the invaders for a moment, puzzled. “Crest-bearer? I'm not sure what you mean; we both possess Holy Blood.” She frowned. “Ah, but explanations can wait. Tine, keep one eye on the wyvern for me...come, quickly; let us turn the entrance to the pier into a choke point.”

This time, the guards obeyed with only a second of thought and uncertainty.

A town defense was fairly rudimentary when it involved a single pier like this; Ishtar had started off her proper military experience dealing with bandits ( _and 'bandits'_ ) who raided or stole from the towns she visited while traveling Freege. While they were undermanned, and the pirates were better armed than the bandits ( _starving desperate peasants_ -) the two of them were used to seeing, the situation now was far from tumultuous. Ishtar was armed with Mjolnir; she could probably kill them all herself, if it came down to it. Hopefully it wouldn't.

The guards formed a choke point, positioning themselves so Ishtar and Tine could cast spells from safety behind them. Despite the display of power, they were seemingly still determined to keep their vow of protection towards the girls.

It was such a strange thing.

The pirates, shaken and furious, charged at the new choke-point. Ishtar removed her hand from Mjolnir and cast a simple Thunder spell, knocking a man off his feet; Tine jumped up and cast Fire, causing the archer who was trying to take point behind a pillar to instead drop to the ground in a panic as his clothes were lit ablaze. The guards leveled their lances and swiped and stabbed at any pirate who managed to get past these attacks to reach them; the second ship began moving around.

Ishtar touched Mjolnir again, stepping out from behind the guards. “I'm sorry,” she muttered, because she wondered if any of these men were just people who had fallen on hard times ( _they were more that than anyone else at home-_ ) but was steeled to her mission. Tine glanced away as another great crackling thunderbolt blasted across the air and slammed into the side of the ship, throwing it off balance and tearing a hole straight through it.

Tine winced when screaming men fell into the ocean. Hopefully some of them could swim.

The pirates kept coming, throwing themselves uselessly against the choke point. Ishtar cast Thunder again and then swore; Tine blinked and then saw what she'd seen – the third ship had turned about and was heading away. Not out into the ocean, but further down the town; likely intending to land somewhere else and attack from the front of the town.

“Someone has to go and man the other entrance!” Ishtar shouted.

“We can't leave here, my lady, or else the pirates will get past us!” The guard called back.

“Damn,” Ishtar muttered, then gave her head a shake. “Hold the line here, we'll go and ensure it stays secure!”

* * *

Tine threw one last fireball and then ran to follow her cousin who was determinedly rushing through the now-empty town. Looking up at the sky, she let out a noise of alarm when she realized she saw that wyvern circling overhead – no, not circling, it was definitely diving!

“Ishtar,” She started to warn her, only to be cut off when an arrow hit the wyvern, causing it to shriek in pain and spiral down to the ground outside of the town. Ishtar paused in her mad dash, a confused noise leaving her throat, before clarity crossed her face.

“I think that must be the Knights of Serios,” She mused before picking up the pace again. “Come, Tine; I believe these are allies of ours.”

Tine let out a relieved sigh. “That's good.” She put her hand on the warm red scarf wrapping securely around her neck. It felt warm, somehow, despite the cool air coming off the ocean.

They rushed to the gates they had all but crashed into the night before ( _had it truly been so little time-?_ ) and looked outside to see what was happening – carefully, positioning themselves so they could duck to the side and avoid arrows or thrown axes aimed at them.

What they saw...was rather a marvel.

There were a man in white and silver, wielding an ax, roaring about the judgment of the goddess in a loud, bombastic voice. A lithe woman in dark clothes wielding an elegant silver bow was taking aim at someone out of sight. They were the only adults, though – and hardly the most interesting figure.

It was the girl who caught Tine's eye first – her and her sword. The blue-haired teenager ( _that was her best guess, she radiated youth from the way she moved_ -) slashed a pirate with a blazing sword as a wyvern circled over her head; instead of calling out for assistance, she stepped backwards and swung her sword up to the sky – and the sword split into several moving parts!; reaching up and piercing the leg of the beast. The wyvern cried out and bucked violently, throwing its rider in its haste to free itself from the blade causing it such pain. It eventually succeeded, and the blue-haired girl let it fly off instead of trying to cut it down.

Tine sort of liked her.

“Teach, be a bit more careful! You could have lost your head there!” That laughing, teasing chastisement seemed to come from a handsome brown-haired boy with tanned bronze skin. He was also dressed as an archer, and he fired arrows with the skill that came from practice from childhood.

“You worry too much about her, Claude!” An orange-haired girl astride a horse darted past him, her lance swung out to catch an enemy. “Since when has anyone ever gotten the jump on our Professor?”

"With how much she worries, it's only fair that someone looks after her in return!" A pink-haired girl laughed, swinging a large ax up onto her shoulder like it weighed nothing at all. 

“He's not worried, he's flirting with her.” A white-haired girl – perhaps the same age as Tine herself – trotted after them; she wasn't holding any weapons, so she was probably a mage. “Haven't you noticed?”

“L-Lysithea, you could get them in trouble if you go around yelling stuff like that,” a boy with light green hair protested; he was wielding a sword and also had a bow and quiver strapped over his back. Two weapons, used by someone that young?

“She's right, Ignatz! Don't worry about it; I'm pretty sure everyone has noticed, but no one's made a fuss.” That comment came from a giant of a boy with a mess of blonde hair and – and – what were those things on his wrists? Well, whatever they were, they allowed him to drop a full-grown man with two punches to the face!

“Um...I-I think this is just Claude's way of trying t-to make the Professor laugh,” that stammered remark came from an elegant young woman with blue hair and a dress not unlike what the priestess had given Tine herself to wear. Her hand glowed with gentle white magic.

“He really should stop, it's unseemingly for him to address her so intimately!” A somewhat pompous-sounding purple-haired haired boy complained. “Stay close to me, Marianne, you needn't dirty your hands over bandit scum like this.”

“H-Hey! Don't leave me behind!” A diminutive purple-haired girl armed with a bow protested, scrambling to keep up. She ran after 'Teach', sticking to her side and shooting at something she couldn't see.

“Those are knights?” Ishtar asked in puzzlement. “They're all so young.” She tilted her head. “Well, I suppose that doesn't matter right at this moment – we should go and greet them, so our two forces can coordinate and take care of that last ship.”

Tine nodded, and the two of them pushed open the gates and rushed to meet the people that – though they did not know it yet – walk with them to their new destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, the deer have finally shown up! (chuckles) Took them long enough, huh? 
> 
> Tine is my daughter and I love her to pieces. Writing from her POV was so fun because going from gen2 Judgral to pre time skip Fodlan must be super disorienting. Also, Ishtar got to cut loose with Mjolnir! 
> 
> Lots of meetings next chapter! I promise, you won't have to wait over a month to see it; I'm determined to put up a slightly more consistent update schedule for this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tine meets some odd knights and learns a bit more about Fodlan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Ah, time to write a little more of my Genealogy crossover. I have all the time in the-  
> The Savior King: What's that you're ready to write another chapter? Awesome let's go we're closing in on the Agartha arc its going to be awesome!  
> Me: Wargh?! (is immediately dragged off)
> 
> Hehehe...sorry about the wait, guys. I swear I should be better at this by now. Hope you haven't gotten too annoyed with the holdup!

Tine had never been on a 'proper battlefield' before.

That just as much due to the fact that no rebellion had ever grown to the point that it could fight proper battles against the Empire ( _Prince Shannan is leading one, people in the market whispered, he still hasn't been caught, Dannan is on his last chance_ ) than the fact that her uncle preferred to keep her indoors and 'out of trouble'. That wasn't to say she hadn't been in what could charitably be called 'skirmishes' before; looters, bandits, poachers and other desperate folk were absolutely everywhere, and sometimes they were bold enough to come to the villages close to Alster. Since her uncle's army was busy trying to 'maintain order' in the Manster District, Tine often went out with local guardsmen to ensure the protection of the local villages. Ishtar joined her whenever her schedule permitted it.

She was still tempted to call this a skirmish, even though it was the single biggest one she'd ever experienced. The pirates were close to being on their last legs, and they weren't very well armed ( _they still had better armaments than the 'poachers' she so often came across_ ) for anything beyond a smash-and-grab. Honestly, any fear she'd felt when she first heard people screaming had long since burned away.

“Ishtar,” Tine gasped as she hurried to keep up with her cousin. Her feet ached a bit, jolts of phantom pain left over from the previous night. “How do we convince the knights we're part of the city guard?”

“Zap a pirate,” Ishtar responded with the faintest ghost of a smile. Tine almost goggled at the sight; Ishtar was so rarely anything but solemn, tired and sad. ( _When was the last time she saw her smile? Was it the day before Julius picked up that eerie tome?_ )

“Is – is that really all it takes?”

“Pirates generally aren't savvy enough to use complex tactics; the ones who do are the exception, not the rule,” Ishtar responded as they drew closer to the boat docked a few yards way from the city gates. Then – impossibly! – her smile widened ever so slightly. “Besides, you're far too pretty and well dressed to be a pirate.”

“T-thanks,” Tine managed, feeling her eyes widening to the size of plates. She hoped Ishtar wasn't too exasperated by how surprised she was by the sight of her smiling, no matter how wan the expression was. She quickly turned her head and attentively examined the scene before them.

The young knights had somehow managed to get control of the gangplank, and those among them armed with bows were harassing the pirates still aboard. Thanks to Ishtar's assault, the two remaining boats were no longer side by side, so they couldn't escape by jumping aboard the other still-seaworthy vessel; that left their only two options to be either going below deck in hopes of orchestrating an ambush, or charging down the gangplank to attack their tormentors. _That was well-done,_ Tine thought. _I suppose they weren't made knights young for nothing._

The blue-haired teen was standing on the front lines; she walked and held herself like a leader, yet that wasn't stopping her from taking an arrow meant for one of the two archers standing behind her. The brown-haired boy ( _he was quite handsome, in a mysterious and exotic way; the closest comparison she could make to his coloring and stature was to a Thracian_ ) did not take kindly to that, his posture going from relaxed and cheerful to angry and aggressive in an instant. Tine watched in awe as he _shot the next arrow right out of the air_ , then followed that up with a blindingly quick draw that put an arrow through the eye of the archer who'd injured his commander.

….A commander who did not seem even slightly fazed by the arrow sticking out of her arm, instead stepping forward and swinging the glowing orange-gold blade forward. _Again_ the blade... _shattered_ before Tine's eyes, breaking up into multiple blades as it transformed into a whip and struck two men who'd been standing on the ship railings. This provided the pink-haired girl and the blonde-haired boy to rush up the gangplank without getting shot at. Tine winced as the smell of burnt flesh hit her nose as the men who'd been hit screamed _(you got used to that particular smell when Queen Hilda ruled your house_ ), watching the blade in amazement for a moment before she remembered what her job was.

 _It's dangerous to use magic without a tome to channel it through, but I didn't pick one up in all the confusion._ Tine blew out a breath and pointed at one of the men at the gangplank. _I'm a daughter of Thrud and Forseti; I don't need one for this!_

Thoron's magic circles flared behind her eyes, and she unleashed the blast of concentrated lightning. It flew true and blew the man off the boat, flinging him a couple yards in the process. Ishtar was a couple of seconds behind her; Mjolnir tucked under one arm ( _there was such a thing as bringing more force than necessary to a fight_ ), she fired off another Thoron that blasted the wyvern that was rising into the air from what looked like the ship's lower deck; it dropped down with a tortured shriek.

Several heads whirled around to stare at them; among them were the blue-haired girl, the brown-haired boy and the older man who was the leader of the detachment judging by how ornate his shining silver armor was. Tine gulped, willing her knees not to shake; the brown haired boy halfway raised his bow before pausing, and then lowering it while eyeing her curiously. “Nice shot,” he called out. His voice was friendly, albeit a bit artificial. “Can we help you?”

“Actually, we're here to help you,” Ishtar corrected, stepping forward to draw the brunt of their attention. “We were working with the city guard to drive off the bandits, and we came this way to reinforce the gate. Might we be of assistance?”

“Of course!” The man boomed exuberantly; he pointed his ax upward out of glee before swinging it toward the boat. “There's not much left to do; stay safe and listen to Sir Eisner's commands.” He slapped a hand on the blue-haired girl's shoulder; she winced a bit and twisted to give him a vaguely bemused look. “We don't want anyone else aside from the bandits to get hurt!”

“Yes sir,” Ishtar said with graceful incline of her head. Tine squeaked and hurriedly mirrored the gesture before skittering nervously towards the blue-haired girl, now identified as Sir Eisner. Upon getting closer, she was startled to realize how tall the other girl was – she was taller than both her and Ishtar, somehow relatively slender and beautiful while still being quite muscular, and... Very solemn looking? Or maybe she was just serious; the look in her blue eyes was difficult to parse. Standing in front of her, Tine couldn't help but feel a little nervous...had they made a bad impression? Was she annoyed at being handed a new variable to worry about mid-battle? Was she sizing them up?

“Sir Alois, please!” One of the nearby knights protested; he had purple hair and a distinct sort of noble bearing – the kind that was fiercely proud of their status and always hungering to take another step up the ladder. Tine instinctively took a step away from him as he approached; Ishtar tensed slightly. “Such drudge labor as this is beneath the dignity of such beautiful women! Surely you aren't insisting we involve them?”

“Are you saying that Teach isn't pretty, Lorenz?” The brown-haired boy asked with a shark-like grin as he drew an arrow. “Ohh, that sounds like you getting extra chores this week!”

The purple-haired boy – Lorenz – sputtered incoherently. Tine waited for the insult to trigger a flurry of blows, but instead the blue haired girl who had been tending to Sir Eisner's shoulder injury burst into a small fit of giggles. She raised a hand to her mouth as though she couldn't believe the sound had escaped her lips; again Tine waited for a blow or angry words.

Instead, the silver haired girl who had been preparing to board before their dramatic entrance let out a loud gasp. “Marianne _laughed!_ I guess you two are good for something after all.” The green-haired boy burst into a fit of startled giggles he frantically tried to muffle while Lorenz started to turn rad; Tine saw Ishtar grow even more tense, ready for things to turn violent. The white-haired girl wasn't worried at all, however.

Nope; she shouldered right past the grinning brown-haired boy and stuck her hand out to Tine, her light violet eyes gleaming with excitement. “Hey you, you have magic, huh?” Tine opened her mouth and closed it with a squeak, her mind whirling as it tried to keep up with the chatter. “Great; your _mine.”_ She promptly seized Tine's hand, pulling her closer. Tine's heart jumped up into her chest; the other girl's smile _looked_ friendly, but what in the world was she so gleeful about-? _“_ We'll pick off any wyverns or archers who try to start something. That's alright, right Professor?”

Sir Eisner blinked twice, looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded. “Very well. Bernadetta, you go with them, alright?” The purple-haired girl – who looked like she'd rather be literally anywhere else, her knees were buckling and she kept giving the ship fearful looks – jumped slightly, before forcibly squaring her shoulders and nodding furiously. “Please come with us, miss.” She gestured to Ishtar. “Claude and I are going to board and go after the two captains. If you can keep us covered, that would be appreciated.”

“Done,” Ishtar promised.

“Great; Sir Alois, Sir Shamir, direct the others to rout the rest of the pirates. Be careful,” Sir Eisner finished.

“I'm always careful!” Sir Alois declared. Sir Shamir – the taciturn-looking woman with dark blue hair and an elegant silver bow – rolled her eyes at that and put a hand on his shoulder, pointedly guiding him to the other gangplank. The green-haired boy, the blonde-haired boy (now that Tine was close to him, she realized what was in his hand weren't strange axes, but spiked gauntlets. How very odd!), Lorenz and Marianne (that was the blue-haired girl's name, right?) rushed to follow them.

“C'mon, we have to get into position!” The white-haired girl said urgently, yanking Tine toward and up the gangplank. She yelped and scrambled to right herself, looking up to see the other girl beaming at her. “My name's Lysithea von Ordelia, by the way.”

“T-Tine von Silesse,” She stammered out.

“Huh, never heard that name before...nice to meet you!” Lysithea said cheerfully as they climbed aboard the ship. Her grip was tight but not crushing; now that Tine was getting a good look at her, she noticed her smile was bright and warm, seemingly without reservation.

“W-wait up!” The purple-haired archer – Bernadetta, that was her name, right? – protested, scampering up after them. She was shivering a bit, looking plenty nervous in comparison to Lysithea's confidence; her hands were steady on the bow she was holding, though.

Tine looked over Lysithea's shoulder and saw men on the boat a few yards away from them pointing and shouting. “Um, L-Lady Ordelia, the men-”

Lysithea scrunched up her face. “Oh, don't start getting all formal on me...us young mages have to stick together!” Then she whirled around and cast an unfamiliar spell; a ball of purple-black magic energy flew out from her outstretched fingers across the ocean to slam into one of the men's face.

“Y-You don't have a tome?” Tine asked, startled, as she scrambled to join the other girl at the railings of the boat.

“A tome? What do you mean by that?” Lysithea pointed again, firing the same spell at another area of the bridge. Quickly Tine brought up her own hands, concentrating on _Thunder_ this time as opposed to _Thoron_. “I learned everything I know from the books, yes, but I don't need to bring them with me.”

_Huh? That's odd...do these people just – just not use tomes? But that's so unsafe...!_

“I-I don't need them for reminders either. I was just wondering...oh, never mind!” An archer was taking aim at Ishtar and Sir Eisner; Tine quickly cast Thunder at him. She cringed at the chopped off scream he let out after the spell hit home, followed by him toppling over the railing and crashed down into the water.

Bernadetta appeared at her right, aiming and firing at the other men. Tine glanced at her, smiling hesitantly; the other girl looked really nervous – maybe this was her first official sortie? She had good aim, though; a man on the far side of the boat dropped dead after she let the arrow fly. “N-N-Nice to meet you,” The purple haired girl squeaked out, shuffling back a few steps when she realized Tine was looking at her.

“Nice to meet you too...Bernadetta, right?” It was distinctly _odd_ to be faced with another girl who was visibly intimidated by her. Tine had been a prisoner for as long as she could remember; she didn't frighten anyone except visitors to Alster, who only feared her because they knew that her presence meant Hilda or Bloom would be close by.

“Y-Yup. I'm, um, one of Professor Byleth's students.” Bernadetta nodded in the direction of Sir Eisner, who had stood up on the railing as the other boat turned toward them. Ishtar lightly touched her arm and was saying something she was too far away to hear, lifting Mjolnir slightly.

“She's a private tutor, not a knight?” Tine asked, startled. She'd thought Eisner very young to be a knight, but given that strange sword she was using ( _it had to be a cursed blade of some stripe that she had mastered through willpower and discepline... she'd heard tales from Thracia about a young woman who had transformed the infamous Shadow Sword into her personal weapon, retaining her mind and soul when all who had come before her had failed. Perhaps Eisner was cut from the same cloth._ ) it at least made sense for her to be on the front lines. But a Professor? A private tutor, all the way out here? At least, she presumed 'Professor' meant private tutor; Bernadetta and Lysithea were too well-fed and well-dressed to be commoners and no school for the common people had lasted long in Jugdral. ( _They'd briefly surged in use when Arvis first became Emperor, but then the Loptous priests had turned them into hunting grounds for children..._ )

“She's both,” Lysithea said, tilting her head slightly in surprise. “The Knights of Serios teach classes at the Officer's Academy all the time. Isn't that common knowledge?”

“I'm sorry; I'm not from these lands, so I don't know many particulars,” Tine admitted. Then she saw a familiar light building up in the corner of her eyes and gasped. “Ah, you're going to want to cover your eyes!”

Lysithea looked confused for a second; Bernadetta, by constant, immediately obeyed, so she didn't scream in surprise quite as loudly as the white-haired girl when the blast of lighting burst from Thrud's sacred tome and blew the side of the boat approaching them to smithereens.

“ _What in the blazing flames was that?!_ ” The orange-haired girl on horseback shrieked, frantically trying to calm her mount as it buckled and scrambled backwards away from the crackling ozone as the spell dissipated.

“Mjolnir's wrath,” Ishtar responded calmly, pocketing the tome as both the brown-haired boy and Sir Eisner rounded on her after recovering from their surprise. “The power of the storm, passed down by my ancestor Thrud. I apologize for the surprise, but it's best that we ended this quickly.”

“...We, I think, have a lot to talk about,” The brown-haired boy said, the air of false-casualness in his voice concealing falcon-like intensity. It made Tine shiver...she was acutely aware that everyone was staring at Ishtar, including Lysithea and Bernadetta.

“True,” Ishtar said quietly. She'd noticed it too; her voice had locked up into the calm, even politeness that she used whenever they were in Belhalla.

_I hope we didn't just make a mistake._

“Let's finish up here first,” Sir Eisner said, still surprisingly calm. “Hilda, where are you?”

Tine's whole body jerked like she'd been hit by lightning; she whirled around, arms raised to defend herself, eyes scanning frantically for some way to escape, _she's here she's here how could she be here-_?

“Right here!” The pink-haired girl said, her cheery voice a little disjointed by shock but otherwise completely genuine sounding. The bloody ax in her hand still made Tine gulp reflexively, even as her rational brain reasserted itself and she remembered where she was. _Hilda can't be here. She was in Alster with Bloom; the light only took me and Ishtar..._

A hand touched her shoulder, causing her to flinch and turn around to find herself facing a concerned-looking Lysithea. “Are you okay?” The white haired girl asked, her brow furrowed with worry.

“Y-Yes, I'm alright. I was just startled...I'm sorry,” Tine managed when she could get her vocal cords to work.

Neither Lysithea nor Bernadetta looked fully convinced by that. Neither sneered at her, though; they both wore fairly gentle expressions. _This place is weird,_ Tine thought definitively. _And it was almost starting to feel familiar, too..._

* * *

“Freege and Silesse...” Sir Shamir shook her head minutely. “Sorry, you've been taken _far_ from home. I've never heard of principalities going by those names.” She eyed Mjolnir, which sat closed on the table in front of Ishtar, with a degree of wariness.

Ishtar's shoulders slumped; Tine let her head drop onto the table with a shaky sigh. “I suspected as much,” Her cousin confessed, sounding incredibly tired. “I have no idea how long we were unconscious, but I'd hoped we'd at least be in somewhat familiar territory. But this? I...don't know how to proceed. We have little money and no roof over our heads except for the church's charity, and I don't know how long sanctuary lasts in these parts.”

“How terrible!” Sir Alois said. He had a loud and dramatic voice that made Tine instinctively flinch away from him, even though he seemed to be genuinely friendly. _(Of course, Julius had periods of time where he was genuinely friendly. A little caution was always prudent._ ) “For such brave and compassionate young women to be torn from everything familiar and flung into an unknown world...a terrible fate indeed! It cannot be borne.”

Tine raised her head an inch to eyeball the brown-haired boy, now identified as Claude von Riegan, soon to be Duke Riegan – head of the Alliance Council. He was openly watching her and Ishtar with eyes that gleamed with both curiosity and calculation; his smile was warm, but it didn't go all the way up to his emerald eyes. The warmth was genuine, yet...

His eyes flickered to her, noticing her gaze; he winked at her, his smile widening a bit. Tine quickly hid her head in her arms again, her heart thudding in her ribs.

After the last of the pirates had been dealt with, the Knights of Serios had checked on the town guard to make sure everyone was all right, then taken them into one of the town's two restaurants. Riegan had wasted zero time jumping on Ishtar and throwing question after question about both themselves and Mjolnir at her. Sir Eisner had insisted on checking both of them for injuries, not being swayed until she was assured with her own eyes that neither of them were hurt. ( _What an odd lady._ ) Sir Shamir and Sir Alois were the ones who finally quieted Riegan long enough to ask about where they were from, leading to the confirmation of their greatest concern – they were no longer in Jugdral.

What were they going to do? Where should they go? How were they going to eke out a life here?

_The child hunts weren't here. The Cult of Loptous wasn't here. Hilda wasn't here._

Tine took a deep breath. Her mind was in a haze; she still kept expecting to wake up, be lifted from the illusion to find herself in the Granvelle medical wing. The battle with the pirates had put most of her theories about life and death to rest – she was still alive, and this all _felt_ real – but how could it be? How could she just...vanish from the world that had bound her in its chains in the blink of an eye?

“Sanctuary? My goodness, what sort of church worth its salt puts a time limit on Sanctuary?” Sir Alois demanded, almost sounding offended. Ishtar started; he beamed at the two of them. “Come with us back to the monastery! The Church of Serios is dedicated to protecting and caring for those who are lost and have nothing but their clothes and shoes to their names.”

“Garreg Mach Monastery is the heart of the Central Church,” Sir Eisner offered as Ishtar blinked rapidly and Tine raised her head again. “There's room and board provided to the homeless free of charge, as well as one of the largest libraries in all of Fodlan, a section of which is purely dedicated to maps of the known world. You might be able to find a way home with the extra information.”

“Plus is one of the most secure places in Fodlan,” Riegan added. “So it'll be hard for anyone to steal your storm-throwing tome from you if you stay there.”

Ishtar let out a little, startled laugh. “Mjolnir is useless to anyone but myself and Tine,” She said with a light shake of her head. “And Tine can only use half of its power, since she inherited the minor Thrud blood from my aunt as opposed to the major that I possess. Anyone else who attempted to use the tome would be burned to death by its innate power; even in the hands of others with Holy Blood, it would just be an ornate paper weight.”

Mjolnir pulsed with magic at the words. Sometimes Tine pondered the fanciful notion that Thrud's tome was alive, reacting to the horrors around it in minute ways. There was one time when Hilda had been about to flog her for taking food from the castle to feed some of the villagers, only for an enormous crack of thunder to ring through the room right as she blew off Ishtar's increasingly desperate attempts to dissuade her. Hilda had jumped out of her skin, looked out the window to see a perfectly clear sky, and instead ordered the guards to lock her in her room for the next few days.

It was the only time she'd seen that devil woman look alarmed.

“So you two _do_ have Crests,” Lysithea said, with the voice of one seeking clarification. Tine suddenly felt a hand patting her on the back; she jolted a bit and looked up to see the pink-haired Hilda looking down at her with a little concern and a friendly smile. She did her best to smile back, murmuring 'I'm fine, really,' as she sat up slightly.

“I'm afraid I've never heard that terminology,” Ishtar said, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. “My ancestor Thrud was given the blessings of the god of storms in order to free Judgral from the grip of the Cult of Loptous. The blood is passed down through the family, with the firstborn child generally inheriting the Major Blood barring some exceptions while the younger children inherit the minor. There is only one 'Crest' I know of that isn't a coat of arms; its the Fire Emblem, the symbol of justice that the house of Fjalar bears.”

“Huh. So the goddess isn't the only one who hands out helpful miscellaneous powers when her silly humans find themselves in a bind,” Claude chuckled. He held out his hand and twisted it so his palm faced the ceiling; a moment later, there was a bright glow of golden light, and... a symbol rose from his wrist, forming a beautiful crescent moon floating in the air. Ishtar leaned forward slightly, eyes wide with both bewilderment and a small amount of fascination. “This is the Crest of Riegan, the major one. It's one of the twelve blessings the goddess gave to humanity over a thousand years ago to save them from demons and dark gods that had been hunting us since the Great Cataclysm. I also happen to have a relic weapon that was handed down to me through my family, though I haven't seen it yet; each house that bears a Crest has one.”

“How curious,” Ishtar whispered, brow furrowed. “For our two lands to have that in common, despite being so far away from each other.”

“So you two _aren't_ sisters?” Pink-haired Hilda asked in surprise. “I could have sworn you were, with how similar you look.”

“Ah, silver hair runs in the family,” Tine mumbled, a little embarrassed. Functionally Ishtar was all but a sister to her, and Ishtore her older brother, but that wasn't quite the reality of it. “My mother was Ishtar's aunt; I'm a branch member of the Thrud family, my father being King Lewyn of Silesse.”

“You're a princess?” Bernadetta squeaked. “W-Wow...”

“We both are, though Freege is one of the larger principality of Granvelle as opposed to a fully independent kingdom.” Ishtar said before sighing and rubbing her forehead. “Not that either of our royal credentials count for much so far from home. I'm afraid we have no choice but to ask for the church's continued sanctuary, because we have little money and only one set of clothes aside from what the local abbey generously provided for us.”

“No trouble, your highness, no trouble at all!” Alois proclaimed. “We shall see you safely to Garreg Mach, where goddess willing an answer to your difficulties may present itself!”

Tine did her best to smile in return.

_Well, we have an actual living situation ahead of us. …Where's the catch? It can't be this easy. No kindness has ever been offered this freely without something being demanded in return. What is lingering underneath the happiness Fodlan seemingly enjoys at will?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! We'll be back in Ishtar's POV for the arrival at Garreg Mach; I'm really looking forward to that, she's going to find it so goddamn weird. Lysithea's so happy to have another tiny but strong mage around!; now they can form a united front against Claude's kid jokes! There are so many character relationships I'm looking forward to building, you have no idea ;)


End file.
